


What Now

by Mischiefkingwinkyface



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, During prologue, Gen, Julian is referred to as Ilya, Manipulation, Past Abuse, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischiefkingwinkyface/pseuds/Mischiefkingwinkyface
Summary: Ilya and Asra meet to discuss the Apprentice, and Ilya considers what they used to be.Takes place during the Prologue.
Kudos: 4





	What Now

Ilyushka stared into his glass. He’d be nursing that drink for some time, longer than perhaps he should have, when the sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts to look at the person approaching. 

“I don’t understand why you like this place so much.” Asra slid into the seat across from him, swinging his feet up to rest on the table with a smirk. “But I suppose I should be grateful you’re easy to find.” 

“Why would you want to find me?” Ilya fought the sudden urge to down his drink. Something about the look in Asra’s eyes made his heart race. 

The magician gave a leisurely shrug and stretched out his arms to let Faust slither out from his shirt and wind herself around his neck. Asra smiled over at her before winking at Ilya. “I think she likes you.” 

“I’d beg to differ.” Just the sight of that snake make a shiver run down Ilya’s spine. 

But Asra just laughed and swung his feet back to the floor so he could lean in close to Ilya. “Do you not want to see me, Ilyushka?” Asra always said his name like it was property, something to be considered as if it held a price between them. 

This time Ilya did down his drink, emptying the glass in front of him in one gulp. Red curls fell in front of his eyes and obscured his view of the person sat across from him. Two pints was not enough alcohol to be in his system for this conversation. Not on that night with that magician sat across from him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

The grin that crept across Asra’s face didn’t exactly imbue hope. Trust him to see a game where one wasn’t wanted. “You asked me here.” 

“I know. You’re usually late.” The one time he wasn’t late, and it was the one time Ilya had taken his time getting drunk. Another drink was starting to sound like a good idea.

Before Ilya bothered to fix his hair, Asra reached over the table and brushed it out of his eyes. His voice went soft all of a sudden, the same tone that made Ilya fall for him all that time ago. “You wanted to see me?” 

“This was a mistake.” Ilya was already onto his feet, past the table when Asra caught his hand in an iron grip. Nails dug into his skin, biting deep enough that Ilya could imagine the bruises that used to be there, the ones that could no longer form. 

“Talk to me?” A request, for now at least. 

“Let go of me, Asra.” 

“Tell me why you wanted me to come.” For now, Asra’s tone was still light. This was how everyone saw him, so light and gentle, but Ilya knew there was a fire stirring underneath. 

Blood pounded in Ilya’s ears. He wanted to run. “Please,” the words caught in his throat, “let go of me.” 

“Sit down.” The tone was too light. 

“Please-“ 

“Now.” Asra raised his eyebrows at him and Ilya sank back to his seat. 

As soon as Ilya sat, Asra lounged back with an easy smile. He eyed the glass in front of Ilya for a while before gliding to his feet in a fluid motion. “Want another?”

Ilya shook his head. As much as he desperately wanted another, Asra was not allowed to be the one to get it. He had learned his lesson before about allowing Asra any sort of power over him, and it would never happen again.  
Asra nodded slowly, as if considering his answer. “I’ll get you another drink.” 

“I don’t want…” The argument drifted into the air before it could even be finished. Ilya knew better than to try to argue with him when he was acting like this. All Ilya could do was remind himself not to drink anything Asra brought him. 

His arm throbbed where Asra had gripped it. There was be no marks, no wounds. But Ilya remembered a time where there would have been. They were always accidents: a bruise here, a scratch there. Asra had always apologised then. Marks were kissed away in soft beds on quiet nights and sweet words made everything feel okay again. 

Another glass was placed in front of him as Asra sat back down. “Are we going to talk now?” 

Ilya nodded and leaned back in his seat. He didn’t feel in control, but he could pretend. “I saw them today, my old apprentice.” 

The change was instantaneous. That easy smile was gone and Asra’s frown chilled Ilya’s blood. If Asra hasn’t been sat between him and the door, Ilya would have run in that moment. 

He awkwardly cleared his throat and continued, “They seem well. I was just wondering if-“ 

“Why would you go see them?” Asra demanded, cutting Ilya off. His tone was even, so carefully controlled that nobody else had noticed what was happening. Asra had always been good at that, making it seem like nothing. 

When Ilya didn’t answer straight away, Asra kept talking. “You have never been smart enough to look past your own impulses, have you? Did you stop for a second to consider what repercussions that could have? What you could have ruined? Really, Ilyushka-“ 

“Call me Julian,” Ilya whispered.

Asra paused to glare at him. “Drink, Ilyushka.”  
Ilya looked at the drink in front of him and shook his head. “I didn’t ask for another drink. I was drinking before you got here.” 

“I don’t drink alone, Ilyushka.” That smile was back. Asra reached over the table and took a sip from Ilya’s glass as if to prove a point. “Better?” 

Ilya’s hands were still shaking when he raised the glass to his lips. Even when they were apart, he was never truly convinced he had escaped Asra’s eyes. “Are you angry at me?” He asked, as if he couldn’t already see the answer. 

“Do you find me angry, Ilyushka?” 

“Call me Julian.” 

“Do you find me angry, Ilyushka?” Asra repeated, grin widening. 

“Please,” Ilya found himself pleading, “call me Julian. I just want to know if they’re okay.” 

Asra shook his head and stood up. His drink was completely untouched, but he never really had any intention of drinking it. “Stay away from them. They don’t remember you.”

“One question,” Ilya said quickly. “Please just answer one question, and you have my word I will keep my distance.”

Asra nodded and held up one finger between them.  
“Did they remember you at first?” Ilya asked. 

That finger snapped down against his fist, and Asra leaned on the back of the chair he’d just been sat on. He stared straight past Ilya and didn’t even move when Faust nudged him. “No. They can’t remember anything at all. They know I there when they woke up and we’ve grown… close since.”

“Goodbye, Asra.” Ilya stared at the table. He didn’t want to have to the deal with the magician any longer than he needed to. Not when Asra was going to keep trying to play him. 

“I have a question for you to consider for next time we meet, Ilyushka Devorak.” To Asra, a name was more than just a name. It was a tool to be used and hold someone hostage if you felt the need. 

There was a pause before Ilya got the courage to meet his eyes. “What would that be?”

Asra smiled and turned his back. He threw the words carelessly over his shoulder as he walked away. “What now?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading the product of my government enforced self-isolation. If there’s anything else you’d like to see for Asra and Ilya, I’m open to requests. Comments are always appreciated. 
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


End file.
